Masquerade
by IdealisticLover786
Summary: "Masquerade!  Seething shadows  breathing lies.  Masquerade!  You can fool  any friend who  ever knew you!"


"**I don't mind trying on someone else  
>I won't mind seeing just how it felt<br>I might like changing my disguise  
>To make you happy"<strong>

**-"Masquerade" Ashley Tisdale**

The sunlight filtered in through the cracks of the silently shaking blinds, scattering around the room and over the sleeping figures of the two in bed. Agitated by the dancing spots of light, she cracked her eyes open unwillingly, no longer able to put off the inevitable. Allowing her eyes to travel and explore every inch of the unconscious man next to her, she committed the details to memory, not sure when, or even if, she would have this chance again. Chance, along with Luck, was a cunning thing; deceptively friendly, it could lure you into a false sense of security and just as quickly spit you out into harsh reality. Both had, for some reason, chosen to favor her last night, and seeing as how they were not frequent visitors, she sure as hell was not going to complain.

He shifted then, and she froze, praying for him not to wake up. What she had to do was hard enough without feeling his chocolate orbs burning into her as always. His eyes were her biggest downfall, their endless depths alluring and irresistible. She had almost fallen victim to them last night,as he tried to weaken her resolve.

"_Please." he had begged, holding her against his body tightly, with a look of desperation in his eyes, "Please let me see you. Let me know you."_

But somehow, she marveled as she lightly traced a pattern around his eyes and down his cheekbone, somehow she had resisted.

"_You do know me." she had insisted, twisting her fingers around his curls hoping for a distraction, "that's why the mask is necessary, it's better this way. For both of us. Because otherwise, the harshness of reality will mar the beauty of the illusion that we've created. Besides," she added as an afterthought, in more of a teasing manner, "You have to admit, the mask just makes it that much more erotic." With an impish grin, she hadn't given him time to respond or protest as she knew he would, and instead had crushed her lips to his. It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, she grabbed his collar and jerked him forward, letting out a laugh as they landed on the bed in a tangle._

He shifted again, and she withdrew her hand in fear. One wandering glance at the clock behind him, and she convinced herself to get out of his bed. Her reality was calling her back, and as much as she wanted to stay, her Cinderella Story was at its end. She stood then, with a heavy sigh, and basked in his scent, the musky, sweet, and heady scent that was imprinted on every part of her. She wasn't sure she would ever get it off, it seeped into her, surrounded her completely. As she made her way to the heap of clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor, an amused smile crossed her face at the state of her once spectacular party dress. The way he had made quick work of it and her underwear last night, she was surprised that her mask hadn't been ripped off. He had tried, one last time, to get rid of the offending article, but again, she had refused.

_He hovered above her, close enough so that every breath he let out was one that she took in, and teased her with his lips. He'd taken his time before, exploring and discovering every part of her until she writhed with pleasure and need. She felt as though, by his ministrations, he was making up for not seeing her face by memorizing every curve of her body and imprinting himself on her. And not being one to take anything lying down (pun fully intended), she had returned the favor, torturing and teasing, tasting and touching. Her touches alternated between soft and harsh, her kisses alternating between gentle and savage, until he had finally flipped them over, in an effort to get her to stop. He had questioned her then, "Are you sure?" She pursed her lips at him, that being one of the few reactions he could see, and had replied with, "Are _**you?**_" She'd watched as his eyes had raked over her body again, sending chills down her spine, and had turned black with desire. He met her eyes then, nodding, "I want you...Mystery." Her stomach clenched at his words and she arched upwards enough that her teeth grazed his ear, "Then take me, Nicholas."_

She snapped back from her memory, reminding herself that once she was gone, she would never be anything more than "Mystery" to him. Nothing more than a girl he had once been attracted to, and had spent the night with. She stood, ready to leave his life as easily and quickly as she had come into it, and unlocked the door, yanking it open.

"Don't leave." A hoarse and muffled voice came from behind her, and she stiffened, the sound making her nerves race. She looked halfway over her shoulder to see him sitting up in bed, his curls a mess, and a disoriented look upon his face.

He ran his hand over his face before speaking, "Don't go. You don't have to be just "Mystery" anymore." Had he read her mind? He must have seen the shock in her eyes because in the next second, he got out of bed, yanking on a pair of boxers, and made his way to her. She should have bolted, but before the thought crossed her mind, he had a firm grip on her wrist. Turning her to face him fully, he tilted her chin upwards, as she refused to look at him. She didn't trust the day. It exposed too much, showed more than was necessary.

Searching her eyes, he spoke softly, "Stay with me. I don't want to let you go." She spoke then, squeezing her eyes shut tightly before opening them again, and willed her voice not to quiver.

"You don't know me." This had been his weapon against her last night, and now, she used it against him. She slowly started to back away, but he moved his grip to her shoulders, tightening it almost painfully.

"I don't know your face. But I know you. I know the smell of your skin, and the taste of your mouth. I know the shape of your lips and the curves of your body. I know every bit of your body, Mystery. And I know every speck of color in your eyes, every freckle upon your skin. Don't tell me I don't know you."

She shook her head stubbornly, trying to push back the tears. She knew he could see the way her eyes were beginning to get shiny, and she hated it. She could not afford to be weak right now. "You know my illusion Nick. And it's the illusion you want more than the reality. Because the reality is nowhere near as spectacular as I seem to you in this moment. My reality is nothing more than pain, chaos, and burdens. And that is something I cannot let you be a part of." She pried his hands off of her shoulders and stepped back, "Just keep the memories and move on." Turning quickly, she was almost to the stairs when a desperate voice stopped her,

"I can't. I can't just forget about you. You mean something to me. I don't know why, but you do. And I'm not willing to let that go. I don't care however harsh you think the reality is, it is better than suffering in this **lie**" She recoiled then, hunching in on herself. Last night was not a lie, it couldn't have been. There was too much passion, too much raw need, for it to be a lie. Her voice quavered as she spoke,

"If last night was a lie, then that means it holds no importance. And since it holds no importance, you can easily forget about it. Besides, you can't miss what you never had, right? I'll see you Monday Nick." And with that, she took off running, down the stairs and out of the house. Away from him, away from his scent, and away from his touch.

She made it to the bus stop, gasping for air, and stumbled on, her tears blurring her vision. Ignoring the stares she was getting, she found a seat in the back and ripped off her mask. It was suffocating her, trapping her within her own mind, her own emotions. She dropped her head into her hands, letting the tears fall faster, as she tried to convince herself that leaving had been for the best. She had to protect him, from other people, from herself. Because come Monday, he wouldn't be Nick anymore, and she wouldn't be "Mystery". No, come Monday, he would be **, her college professor**, and she would be Aubriana James,**just another lovesick student.**


End file.
